VM fic: Saunter Vaguely Downward (Lamb, the Echolls family) PG-13
Title: Saunter Vaguely Downward
Author: Shealynn88
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1200 words
Warnings: angst
Characters: Lamb, the Echolls family
Spoilers: none
Summary: Now he, Don Lamb, was going in to investigate a domestic disturbance complaint against a man he'd idolized for the better part of ten years. A man whose roles were part of the reason he'd gotten into law enforcement in the first place.
Author's Note: How did Lamb get to be such an asshat? I'm not sure we'll ever know. But here's an idea of how the fall might have started. The title is my nod to Good Omens.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Rob Thomas and UPN, and a dozen other people who aren't me. I'm just borrowing.
He tried to be professional when he got there, driving up the long, winding driveway to the door of Aaron Echolls' house. The mansion was huge. Sheriff Mars said he'd get used to the size and the wealth, eventually. You had to, in Neptune. It was fucking everywhere.
But right now, it was overwhelming. The size, the people, the way they tossed money around at the drop of a hat. And now he, Don Lamb, was going in to investigate a domestic disturbance complaint against a man he'd idolized for the better part of ten years. A man whose roles were part of the reason he'd gotten into law enforcement in the first place.
Don straightened his shirt and rolled his neck quickly before he knocked at the door.
Strangely enough, the man himself answered.
"Hi," Don said, giving a short nod that he hoped would look professional and confident. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I received a call about a possible domestic disturbance at your residence?" He took a quick sweeping look at the room behind Aaron Echolls. It was spotlessly clean, and a woman and a boy stood behind him with matching smiles. They looked almost perfect, if you didn't count the smudged eyeliner on the woman's face, or the stiff way the boy was standing.
When Don looked at the kid, it was like looking at himself, ten years ago. Not the build. The boy was taller and thinner than he had been. Even at 14, Don Lamb had looked like a jock. This kid was stick thin, and he looked like he had the coordination of an hour-old calf. His hair was lighter than Don's had been, his features were finer…but the look on his face-sullen, empty eyes and a self-deprecating half-smile that never quite went away-that was a look Don had seen many, many times in the mirror.
He knew before anyone opened their mouth, before the kid's mother touched his shoulder and he winced, knew with the certainty of personal experience that Aaron Echolls beat his son.
He felt suddenly sick.
Mr. Echolls clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little too hard, and drew him inside. "Deputy…Lamb, is it?" He read it off Don's shirt.
Don nodded shortly.
"Come on in! This is my wife, Lynn. My son, Logan."
Don nodded to each of them, searching for something in their eyes or faces that would help him do the right thing. Their expressions stayed blank.
Aaron led him across the room and walked him into the next, past rich fabrics and matching furniture made of rare woods that Don couldn't have named even with an encyclopedia in front of him. Every piece in here, down to the silk flowers and the tasseled pillows, cost more than his rent. For a year. Everything in this house made him feel small and insignificant.
Just like home.
"So, Deputy, you got a call, huh?"
Don nodded.
Aaron shook his head, massaging Don's shoulder absently, painfully. "You'd think that living like this, being a star and having all this power and money and everything…you'd think it would be great." He was staring off in the distance, like he was thinking something profound. It looked like the stare he'd used in Beyond the Breaking Point, right before he'd told the girl about his checkered past.
"But once you're successful, once you've got things…there are always people trying to take them away from you." He looked at Don, his eyes hard. "I have a great family, Deputy. I work hard for them, and they're what I live for. People just can't stand that I can be that happy, you know? It's actually kind of sad."
The stare was starting to get to him, so Don just nodded.
"I would never hurt my family. They're everything to me."
I would ride through fire for them. I would die for them, kill for them. It was a line from The Long Haul.
Don swallowed. "Of course, Mr. Echolls."
"You understand how it is, then. People get jealous. I don't understand it, but they try to make my life difficult by making these calls, telling people that I'm an awful person." He stopped and turned, taking Don's other shoulder in his other hand, squeezing just this side of Vulcan-nerve-pinch hard. "They just can't stand that I have things they'll never have, that I can have lunch with the President one day and make a five-million-dollar paycheck the next."
Yeah, Don understood. He heard, loud and clear, what Mr. Echolls was telling him with that casual reminder of wealth and power: people could say what they would about the man. He could get out of it. Even if it was true.
Especially if it was true.
"You're absolutely right, sir," he said, keeping his voice even. "If I could just speak to your family for a moment, I'll let you get on with your evening."
Aaron narrowed his eyes in question.
"Just procedure, sir."
Mr. Echolls' answering smile seemed a little strained. "Of course. You go right ahead."
When he let go of Don's shoulders, the returning blood-flow hurt like hell, but Don kept a mild smile on his face. Never let them see when they got to you. That's how you dealt with bullies. "Should only take a second, sir," he said, trying to make his retreat dignified.
When he went into the other room, Lynn and Logan hadn't moved. They were like dolls, standing completely still with little smiles on their faces; their glass eyes revealed nothing.
Charges wouldn't stick. They knew it and so did he. So when he asked, they said nothing had happened, and when they lied, he pretended to believe them.
Aaron Echolls saw him out, shaking his hand as he left and transferring a few bills in the process. Don hoped his smile didn't falter too badly when he felt the crisp paper against his palm.
"I'm glad we got to meet, Deputy. I have a feeling you'll go a long way in this town."
"Thank you, sir," Don said numbly.
He told himself as he drove away that the boy would be fine. He had more than Don had ever had, and Don had turned out all right. Upstanding citizen, man of the law. Hell, give the boy a few years, he could make a fortune off his old man. Ghost-write a tell-all book and cash in on the sympathy. Don had probably done him a favor by not breaking the story now.
He stopped to pick up a few things on the way back to his new apartment. The vodka he bought with his own crumpled twenty, smashed in his back pocket.
The microwave, he bought with some of the Echolls' money. The hundred was clean and crisp and stained with Don's own fading expectations.
That night, Don dreamt of his father, wielding a belt. His room faded into the silky perfection of the Echolls' house, his father's features faded into his hero's, and he woke in a cold sweat.
After a few weeks, the dreams faded with the vodka.
The microwave lasted almost ten years.
Saunter Vaguely Downward, Part II
Author: Shealynn88
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1200 words
Warnings: angst
Characters: Lamb, the Echolls family
Spoilers: none
Summary: Now he, Don Lamb, was going in to investigate a domestic disturbance complaint against a man he'd idolized for the better part of ten years. A man whose roles were part of the reason he'd gotten into law enforcement in the first place.
Author's Note: How did Lamb get to be such an asshat? I'm not sure we'll ever know. But here's an idea of how the fall might have started. The title is my nod to Good Omens.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Rob Thomas and UPN, and a dozen other people who aren't me. I'm just borrowing.
He tried to be professional when he got there, driving up the long, winding driveway to the door of Aaron Echolls' house. The mansion was huge. Sheriff Mars said he'd get used to the size and the wealth, eventually. You had to, in Neptune. It was fucking everywhere.
But right now, it was overwhelming. The size, the people, the way they tossed money around at the drop of a hat. And now he, Don Lamb, was going in to investigate a domestic disturbance complaint against a man he'd idolized for the better part of ten years. A man whose roles were part of the reason he'd gotten into law enforcement in the first place.
Don straightened his shirt and rolled his neck quickly before he knocked at the door.
Strangely enough, the man himself answered.
"Hi," Don said, giving a short nod that he hoped would look professional and confident. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I received a call about a possible domestic disturbance at your residence?" He took a quick sweeping look at the room behind Aaron Echolls. It was spotlessly clean, and a woman and a boy stood behind him with matching smiles. They looked almost perfect, if you didn't count the smudged eyeliner on the woman's face, or the stiff way the boy was standing.
When Don looked at the kid, it was like looking at himself, ten years ago. Not the build. The boy was taller and thinner than he had been. Even at 14, Don Lamb had looked like a jock. This kid was stick thin, and he looked like he had the coordination of an hour-old calf. His hair was lighter than Don's had been, his features were finer…but the look on his face-sullen, empty eyes and a self-deprecating half-smile that never quite went away-that was a look Don had seen many, many times in the mirror.
He knew before anyone opened their mouth, before the kid's mother touched his shoulder and he winced, knew with the certainty of personal experience that Aaron Echolls beat his son.
He felt suddenly sick.
Mr. Echolls clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little too hard, and drew him inside. "Deputy…Lamb, is it?" He read it off Don's shirt.
Don nodded shortly.
"Come on in! This is my wife, Lynn. My son, Logan."
Don nodded to each of them, searching for something in their eyes or faces that would help him do the right thing. Their expressions stayed blank.
Aaron led him across the room and walked him into the next, past rich fabrics and matching furniture made of rare woods that Don couldn't have named even with an encyclopedia in front of him. Every piece in here, down to the silk flowers and the tasseled pillows, cost more than his rent. For a year. Everything in this house made him feel small and insignificant.
Just like home.
"So, Deputy, you got a call, huh?"
Don nodded.
Aaron shook his head, massaging Don's shoulder absently, painfully. "You'd think that living like this, being a star and having all this power and money and everything…you'd think it would be great." He was staring off in the distance, like he was thinking something profound. It looked like the stare he'd used in Beyond the Breaking Point, right before he'd told the girl about his checkered past.
"But once you're successful, once you've got things…there are always people trying to take them away from you." He looked at Don, his eyes hard. "I have a great family, Deputy. I work hard for them, and they're what I live for. People just can't stand that I can be that happy, you know? It's actually kind of sad."
The stare was starting to get to him, so Don just nodded.
"I would never hurt my family. They're everything to me."
I would ride through fire for them. I would die for them, kill for them. It was a line from The Long Haul.
Don swallowed. "Of course, Mr. Echolls."
"You understand how it is, then. People get jealous. I don't understand it, but they try to make my life difficult by making these calls, telling people that I'm an awful person." He stopped and turned, taking Don's other shoulder in his other hand, squeezing just this side of Vulcan-nerve-pinch hard. "They just can't stand that I have things they'll never have, that I can have lunch with the President one day and make a five-million-dollar paycheck the next."
Yeah, Don understood. He heard, loud and clear, what Mr. Echolls was telling him with that casual reminder of wealth and power: people could say what they would about the man. He could get out of it. Even if it was true.
Especially if it was true.
"You're absolutely right, sir," he said, keeping his voice even. "If I could just speak to your family for a moment, I'll let you get on with your evening."
Aaron narrowed his eyes in question.
"Just procedure, sir."
Mr. Echolls' answering smile seemed a little strained. "Of course. You go right ahead."
When he let go of Don's shoulders, the returning blood-flow hurt like hell, but Don kept a mild smile on his face. Never let them see when they got to you. That's how you dealt with bullies. "Should only take a second, sir," he said, trying to make his retreat dignified.
When he went into the other room, Lynn and Logan hadn't moved. They were like dolls, standing completely still with little smiles on their faces; their glass eyes revealed nothing.
Charges wouldn't stick. They knew it and so did he. So when he asked, they said nothing had happened, and when they lied, he pretended to believe them.
Aaron Echolls saw him out, shaking his hand as he left and transferring a few bills in the process. Don hoped his smile didn't falter too badly when he felt the crisp paper against his palm.
"I'm glad we got to meet, Deputy. I have a feeling you'll go a long way in this town."
"Thank you, sir," Don said numbly.
He told himself as he drove away that the boy would be fine. He had more than Don had ever had, and Don had turned out all right. Upstanding citizen, man of the law. Hell, give the boy a few years, he could make a fortune off his old man. Ghost-write a tell-all book and cash in on the sympathy. Don had probably done him a favor by not breaking the story now.
He stopped to pick up a few things on the way back to his new apartment. The vodka he bought with his own crumpled twenty, smashed in his back pocket.
The microwave, he bought with some of the Echolls' money. The hundred was clean and crisp and stained with Don's own fading expectations.
That night, Don dreamt of his father, wielding a belt. His room faded into the silky perfection of the Echolls' house, his father's features faded into his hero's, and he woke in a cold sweat.
After a few weeks, the dreams faded with the vodka.
The microwave lasted almost ten years.
Saunter Vaguely Downward, Part II